Caught a moonbeam to Muskogee with a dark angel
Where it started, it's hard to know. Maybe I was a traveller
hitching a ride on an ideology maybe I was trying to find my space,
then she was there and we were sharing space

She was all anodyne and icicles with a presence magnetic and
manner so soothing,
she allowed me to forget
from where I had never
                                          come
                 ­                                  from

And from our first tryst
she was careful to explain that
it is never the shadow bringing the light.
This, of course, illuminated nothing

I was hooked, however, on her ominous banter
Lack of curves, and cubist edges
Hooked and ready for processing:
In her presence, I allowed myself to feel

That I was such a pretty thing
while she kept me under wing...
kept me as her play thing, and
this I allowed for much to long

With her I felt
but could not see
thus I paid the price for wading
into the shallow end of identity

We journeyed through the desert
for a thousand years while I satisfied
my thirst with a state of dementia and
was rewarded with emptiness for doing the time

This infatuation transformed my youth into
disenchanted wisdom and I finally understood that
It’s never the shadow that brings the light
Which for some reason, illuminated everything

Once you know that
you can find freedom in addiction,
wealth in poverty, purity in excess,
then step by step, ferociously

you can find peace
at the top of the mountain
while losing your identity
and finding your self

My skin remembers your fingers.
My calm remembers your care.
I loved once and was loved.
Read this to me when I'm not there.